


Lines Stitched into Highways

by Acai



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, College AU, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gender Identity, Getting Together, M/M, Non-binary character, OT4, Other, bokuakakuroken, but like, idk like angsty thoughts, non-binary kenma, not angst?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 11:19:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8100463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acai/pseuds/Acai
Summary: Kenma thinks that maybe it would have been easier if his sister had taken her makeup with her to college.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It is implied throughout this that Kenma is non-binary, male presenting, as he uses 'he/him' pronouns throughout this. I dunno, I just like Bokuakakuroken and didn't want to study.

** Lines Stitched Into Highways **

_"non-binary kenma and bokuakakuroken," requested by alienkawas._

_Send prompts and fic requests to Aobajosighs on Tumblr._

                Kenma had yet to meet someone who’d never once complained about their siblings. Siblings teased and stole things that weren’t theirs and ruined parties that they weren’t hosting. Siblings played music too loud and tore clothes and ratted each other out to their parents. If he were to ask anyone, he was sure they’d say their sibling was obnoxious at best. Even Kuroo, who had two brothers and a sister, would bicker with his siblings over small things that really didn’t deserve an argument.

For whatever reason, Kenma hadn’t ever had a problem with his own sister. Maybe it was the age gap. By the time he was starting elementary school, she was learning how to drive. When she was always out and never home, it was hard to have anything to hold against her. When she was home, he still didn’t have anything to hold against her. Her teasing had never been worse than calling his hair messy or pointing out the gap in-between his teeth in first grade. And most teenage girls were busy acting mature so that their parents would let them go to movies with boys who they found cute, so she’d always gone out of her way to be responsible in front of their parents.

When she’d been left in charge without their parents home, she’d still helped with homework and cut the crust of sandwiches and reached things that Kenma couldn’t.

Kenma never really had a problem with his sister. He’d never seen a reason to dislike her. And he’d never seen a reason to dislike letting her use her goopy liquid eyeliner on him or put sparkles around his eyes with her makeup glitter. He’d always _liked_ her glow-in-the-dark nail polish, actually. Because, after all, his sister was loud and outgoing and likable, always having over friends and going out to movies with boys. It probably had something to do with her prettily-done hair and perfectly-done nails and naturally pretty face, which she put her goopy eyeliner and makeup sparkles on every morning. Even if Kenma looked awkward in comparison, he’d never had a problem with any of it.

When she’d gone off to college and left her eyeliner and glitter and nail polish in her room to collect dust, Kenma had been plenty old enough to know that it wasn’t really a thing that boys did. He’d known, but that hadn’t stopped him from putting it on and shutting himself in his room where nobody could ask about it. Walking by the mirrors and spotting it when he’d managed to do it particularly well was always a nice surprise (even if he had to be careful to clean it all off before dinner).

And when his sister had gotten a job running a coffee shop on the other side of town and Kuroo was complaining about how he wished his sister would leave too (she keeps messing up my room!), Kenma was _very well_ aware of the fact that that wasn’t something for _boys._ But, well, fuck it. Because who was going to see him slip into his sister’s room and put on her eyeliner while he studied? If he liked the way that the mascara made his eyelids feel heavy, then it wouldn’t hurt to wear it, right?

(As long as nobody found out.)

Kenma had never had a problem with his sister, but maybe things would have been easier without knowing about those things that boys shouldn’t touch.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

                Kenma hadn’t wanted to join the volleyball club again that year, but he’d already gone a year without seeing Kuroo at all for days and he wasn’t willing to do it again. So he joins their volleyball team just to see Kuroo at the end of the day, because there’s something about spending time with somebody who knows you inside-out that’s calming.

They’re playing their third match of the year when Kenma spots him. There’s a boy standing on the other side of the court, eyes settled on a taller boy with questionable hair. There wasn’t anything that really stood out about him—he wasn’t too short or tall, and his hair wasn’t done as wildly as his teammate’s or Kuroo’s. But he’d had eyeliner on, nothing too obvious, and it could have passed off as just having dark eyelashes. His eyes flitted over and met Kenma’s and Kenma snatched his eyes back to the ground so fast that he almost gave himself whiplash. When he glances back up, the boys eyes are still where they were before, but he looks amused now. Kenma bit his lip, turning towards Kuroo like he had a reason to. Without a question or anything to say, he ended up just staring at him until Kuroo turned around to try and hype him up. It never worked, but Kenma would appreciate the effort anyway.

The tall kid with the tall hair refers to his setter as _agkaaashi_ , which Kenma’s pretty sure isn’t quite his name, judging by the whine and the way the boy glares subtly. But he’s good at volleyball, good at setting and making good calls. Maybe the eyeliner is part of his strategy, because it’s certainly distracting Kenma. It’s not the eyeliner _itself,_ but the fact that he seems perfectly confident wearing it out. _Good for him,_ Kenma supposes, focusing back on the game and trying to make good calls for his own team.

They end up losing the match, which pleases the tall boy who aggravates his setter, and which disappoints Kuroo. But Kuroo, who grew up with three siblings, is good at shaking things off. He’s back to being loud within a couple of minutes, and Kenma pretends like he’s not still thinking about the other team’s setter.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Kuroo points out a little while later that Kenma might stick out less if his hair isn’t so brown. It’s not a very good point, he’ll probably just stick out more if he dyes it. But he goes to the store anyway and picks something blond, because he knows plenty of people who’ve dyed their hair blond in their grade that year. When he goes home and inspects his hair, he notes that it’s getting longer. It’s nearly down to his chin, and his mother keeps harassing him to get a haircut. He thinks, though, that it’s better like this. He can pull it back into ponytails and try and get it to go into a bun like his sister can do with her pretty, long hair.

(Kenma’s hair isn’t nearly long enough, but it’s fun anyway.)

Not to mention, it blocks his vision. As long as he tilts his head down, he can’t see the way that eyes snap to him and judge him quietly.

So he lets  it grow more and dyes it when it reaches his chin, bleaching it until it looks blond. He enjoys the process of it, likes the way that it feels to do something new with his hair.

After he bleaches it, he checks the mirror to make sure it looks okay. Then he pretends he hasn’t seen it yet, acts as if he’s saving it for a big reveal. He creeps into his sister’s room, taking a deep breath and fumbling through her things for the flowing, floral skirt that she wore to her graduation party. She’d never liked it, but Kenma had been infatuated. He thumbs through her makeup next, pushing his hair out of his face and pretending like he still can’t see it while he puts on the eyeliner, tugs on the skirt. Then he stands in front of the mirror hanging on her door, glancing up at his hair and making himself feel surprised, as if he wasn’t the one who’d dyed it.

It’s long enough to pull into a small bun now, so he pulls it up and leaves two pieces hanging in the front. She’s got a floppy pink hat sitting on her desk, and he tugs it on and can’t force down the grin that pops up when he glances back. It’s not really how he _looks,_ so much as the calm giddiness that comes with it. The front door opens noisily and he scrambles to tug his hair down and wipe his face off and shove the skirt back into the bottom drawer, creeping back out like he hadn’t touched a thing.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Would you ever wear eyeliner?” He asks Kuroo while they walk home from volleyball and Kuroo tries to beat a game on Kenma’s phone. (He’s not doing very well.)

Kuroo hums in response, shrugging once. “Maybe. I don’t really have a reason to, it’d probably feel funny. I don’t really see how girls do it all the time, wouldn’t your face feel heavy? Why’d you ask?”

And of course he wouldn’t, because only girls get the luxury of running those soft skirts between their fingers and pulling their hair into beautiful bows and curls. “Just wondering,” he lies.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It’s funny to Kenma later when he meets the boy from the volleyball game at a training camp. Kuroo’s friends with the noisy boy from the other team, so Kenma gets roped into practicing with them. The other boy, who’s not wearing eyeliner this time, is standing there and looking unamused. Kenma joins him, because he’s not going to join Kuroo and his friend in their noisy wildness, and he can’t bring himself to ask about the eyeliner.

(The boy is named Akaashi Keiji, his friend is named Bokuto Koutarou, and he’s just as calm and confident as he seems from across the net.)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  ~ ~ ~

Kenma gets pulled along on Kuroo’s expeditions with Bokuto more and more throughout his first year, which is Kuroo’s second year, because Kuroo thinks it’ll be fun if they all go. Kenma goes, if only because Kuroo will whine for days if he doesn’t. Akaashi gets pulled along with Bokuto, and Kenma finds himself spending more time with the other setter than Kuroo when his friend runs off to pull some dumb stunt.

Akaashi remembers him from their game, but Kenma’s only aware of that when Akaashi comments on his hair color.

Bokuto’s actually as noisy as he seems, which is hard to believe, but he’s not as hard to get along with as he seems. Not to mention, his hair tends to draw away all the attention from Kenma, which he likes. He’s polite, on the other hand, and innocently kindhearted. He’s easy to get along with when you ignore the noisiness of it all.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~

Kuroo rooms with Bokuto when they both go off to college, and Kenma stops playing volleyball for his senior year. There’s not really a reason to if he’s not going to see Kuroo. It would be stressful, impractical.

He does see Akaashi, still. Their friends aren’t dragging them along, but after three years Kenma’s become acquainted enough with the other two that it would feel unnatural to stop seeing them along with Kuroo. But Bokuto’s just as far away, so he goes someplace calm with Akaashi and it’s a nice change of pace from their usual eventful weekends.

Kenma and Akaashi go to different universities, but they’re close enough together that they just get an apartment right in the middle. Kenma can’t bring himself to say thanks, because Akaashi probably wouldn’t understand why he was being thanked, but he’s grateful that he doesn’t have to meet a stranger and live with them.

Living away from home means no more makeup and no more skirts and no more floppy pink hats, which is a little sad, but a little bit relieving. He was bound to get caught eventually, no matter how careful he was.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“You were wearing eyeliner,” Kenma says, bringing it up after dinner one night when it’s dark out and everything feels so calm and surreal that he can’t bring himself to fret. “The first time that I saw you.”

“My sister put it on to practice putting it on someone else,” Akaashi replies, flipping the page of his book as if he’s not really invested in the conversation or confused by the question. “It looked nice, so I kept it on.”

“Would you wear it again?” Kenma asks, blurting it out before he can stop himself.

Akaashi glanced up at him, for just a second, and Kenma hoped violently that he wasn’t red like he felt. “I see any reason not to.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Kenma kisses Akaashi in their kitchen a year later, and it’s a strange, blushing mess for a stretch of two or three days before Akaashi kisses him on the couch. Kenma likes being able to call Akaashi his boyfriend, rather than his roommate, but there’s something about the way that Kuroo and Bokuto kiss that makes him stare, and he thinks that’s probably why he’s not a very good boyfriend to have.

(On the other hand, Akaashi stares, too, so maybe it’s just something about it that makes people stare.)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Kenma tells Bokuto first, which he can’t really explain. Really, shouldn’t he have told his boyfriend? Or Kuroo, who he’d known his whole life? Instead, he tells Bokuto. But really, Bokuto’s a good listener, and Kenma can’t imagine Bokuto having a negative response to this kind of thing.

He says it all, pouring it all out like a book spilling every word onto pavement. And he says that sometimes, most times, he thinks it’s unfair that boys can’t have that soft silk and those floppy hats and pastel colors.

Bokuto laughs, and Kenma regrets every moment of his waking life. Bokuto laughs and Kenma regrets until Bokuto’s a mass of giggles, looking slightly apologetic, and Kenma’s ready to melt into a puddle and evaporate.

“If y’wanna wear eyeliner, then wear it! Akaashi used to wear it when his sister would put it on him, and he looked really good, y’know? I think it looks good, I’m just bad at putting it on. Besides, I think you’d look nice in a skirt.” He says it all with airy easiness, like they’re talking about the weather. The weather  outside was muggy and hot, unpleasant in every way, and maybe that was why Kenma was delirious enough to pour his soul out to his boy sitting next to him.

“That’s…”

“Y’know, Kuroo wore it last year for a party. Hear me out, maybe it’s just cause I’m like, really gay, but I’ve never seen someone _not_ look good in eyeliner. And I’ve met some really awful people, but…well, at the end of the day, they don’t really matter. Cause they’re not gonna know if you’re happy or unhappy, and they’re not gonna know who you are. They’re never gonna _see_ you again. Really, does their opinion matter if the people you see every day like you?”

And Kenma thinks that, at the end of the day, it’s easier said than done.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When he tells Keiji, the response is calmer than Bokuto’s. It’s been nearly half a year since he told Bokuto, and honestly he’s surprised that it hasn’t been leaked out to Kuroo and Akaashi yet. He’s surprised at himself for doubting Bokuto, too, because Bokuto’s serious about the important things.

(Is this an important thing? Does this matter as much as he makes it?)

Akaashi doesn’t seem to find it very important, which Kenma thinks means that he probably didn’t sound very believable. Maybe it sounded like a bad joke? Or teasing? But Akaashi asks a couple nights later if Kenma’s hair is long enough to pull back into a bun, and Kenma isn’t sure. But Akaashi, who’s had experience doing the hair of Bokuto’s little sisters, fetches a hair tie and they find out.

(It’s long enough, and Akaashi ties a ribbon around it when it’s finished. Kenma’s reluctant to take it out when they go to bed, but Akaashi reassures him in amusement that he can do it again tomorrow.)

Kenma texts Kuroo after Akaashi’s asleep, and Kuroo’s response comes quickly. It’s joking in the first message, pointing out how he noticed Kenma’s staring at Akaashi’s eyeliner, but the second message is more serious, and the sobriety doesn’t fit Kuroo, but Kenma appreciates the sentiment that comes with the reassurance.

And it’s nerve-wracking, letting Keiji pull his hair into a bun and weave a ribbon through it,  but Kenma stuffs his hands in his pockets and doesn’t let himself back out. Bokuto’s eyes light up when he sees, recognizing the way that Akaashi does hair, but there’s no attention on it and Kenma’s grateful, again, but still isn’t sure if he’d confuse them all by saying thanks.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It’s several more months before they all agree to go and stay with Bokuto’s family for Christmas break, and they’re all sitting outside on his back porch and letting the cool air hit their faces. It smells like rain and it’s too cloudy to see the stars, so it’s really pointless to sit there and stare at the sky. Sometimes, though, the moon peeks through the clouds, and it’s almost intoxicating staring at the sky and waiting for that moment, so Kenma keeps staring and staring, not really listening to anything the other three are saying at all. (Something about volleyball, something about essays, something about the man living across from Bokuto and Kuroo.)

Kenma tunes in when they all fall quiet, and Kuroo and Akaashi are both staring at Bokuto without saying anything. Kenma, admittedly, isn’t sure what he’s said, but it must have been strange. That’s not really unusual, though.

“Wait, you’re serious?” Kuroo says, and Kenma can’t read his face for once.

“Well, yeah. I just thought maybe I should point that out? In case…it was important. Sorry if that’s, like, weird.”

Kuroo’s quiet for a second, before his face relaxes again and he says, “nah, same.”

Akaashi turns and catches Kenma’s eye, face blank. His eyes are amused, though, and Kenma can’t really think of a time where Akaashi was anything _but_ amused deep-down. “Are you going to confess your love for me, also? It seems now is the time.”

Is _that_ what was happening?

“I’m sure I already have once or twice,” Kenma mumbled, looking back up even though his concentration was gone and his face was red.

There’s quiet for a second, blanketed over them and making time stretch on longer than it should have. It was probably just a couple of seconds, but it felt long enough to count every star overhead before Akaashi said anything.

“Maybe you weren’t looking for a reply and that was just a confession, but you’re not the only ones who,” he pauses, like he hasn’t planned what he’s going to say and he’s talking as he thinks. He gives up, seeming to go with the idea that they’ll understand what he’s saying. And Kenma, who hasn’t got a clue what’s happening other than the fact that Kuroo and Bokuto apparently just called Akaashi hot, doesn’t know what he’s saying. But Bokuto and Kuroo seem to, because the silence is draped back over them and is tousling with time again.

And then the eyes have landed on him. Because he still isn’t sure what’s going on entirely, he’s not sure what they’re all waiting for. And then it registers, and it takes a moment longer to process completely as he fills in the blanks of what’s happening. “Oh,” he says, because it’s the only thing that his brain can think of to say. It’s not exactly the answer they’re _looking_ for, and he sees uncertainty flit over Kuroo’s face, for just a moment, and Kenma wishes his childhood friend would learn to read him a little better. Scrabbling through his mind for something to reply that will make him _less_ uncertain. “Yes,” he says, wanting to smack his head on a wall, because is that really the only thing he could think of to say? It wasn’t even a proper answer, and it definitely didn’t make sense in the context of what he _should_ have said back.

Maybe he could have said, _I feel that way, too,_ which would have made sense and would have sounded much smarter. Or perhaps even, at the very least, _Me too,_ which wasn’t much better, but made more sense than _yes._

And Kenma’s too busy fretting to notice that they’ve all relaxed while he’s grown nervous. Akaashi’s hand lands on top of Kenma’s, and it’s grounding enough that he shoves away the worries and turns his gaze back to the three of them.

And when Kenma went on a trip with his boyfriend, he didn’t think he’d be going back home with _three boyfriends,_ but he isn’t necessarily complaining.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

College isn’t for Bokuto. In all honesty, Kenma hadn’t noted such a thing. Bokuto had done well in his classes, he’d made friends and found the courses easy, but he’d told them at one in the morning over their next break that he didn’t like it. That the classes themselves were okay, but did he really want to spend all that time working towards something that he wasn’t sure he wanted? And if he _did_ know what he wanted, it wasn’t what he was working towards. So Akaashi words it as college not being for Bokuto, and that’s how Kenma thinks of it, too. He admits to himself that he still doesn’t understand how he was unhappy with it when he was excelling, but Bokuto drops out anyway.

Kenma understands when he sees Bokuto next. And Bokuto, who had looked confused and tense under all of his noisiness and vibrancy before, looked easy-going and happier than he had before, in a way that Kenma hadn’t even noticed had stopped. And he thinks that he gets it, that Bokuto is happier like this, doing what he enjoys. Kenma’s not sure how to word that, not sure how to be supportive like Kuroo and Akaashi, but he tells Bokuto he looks happy and hopes that the point is conveyed.

Bokuto grins at him, blindingly, and Kenma thinks he gets it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It’s another year before anything of significance happens. Kenma’s hesitant over the course of a year to fall back to old habit, but Akaashi continues to do his hair into different hairstyles and Kenma puts on eyeliner, some mornings, and when he goes to visit his parents for his mother’s birthday he sneaks the floral skirt into his bag on the way home. The hat stays, because his sister likes the hat, but she always hated the skirt. He’s doing it for her, of course, ridding her of that miserable, wretched skirt. It’s an act of kindness, that’s all.

But it’s without a cause when he puts it on, hair still pulled up with a bow and eyeliner still applied, and it’s like the first time he bleached his hair. This time he’s not pretending that he’s shocked at his appearance, though. He runs his finger over the fabric, holds the skirt out like he’s going to curtsey, just to stare at the pattern. He spins, to watch it fly up and float down gently. It’s a good skirt, pretty and soft and not too-short and not too-long, and he can’t think of a single reason why his sister wouldn’t like it. She seems to only wear skirts, after all, so why was this one so terrible to her? Maybe she didn’t like floral print.

Kenma stands there for so long, messing with the skirt like a child, that Akaashi arrives home and watches him from the doorway for at least a couple of minutes before Kenma sees, which is embarrassing but not terribly enough so that he turns red or makes up excuses. Instead he says, “it matches the ribbon,” and it feels good to be so blatantly honest.

Kenma leaves it on. He debates taking it off, because Kuroo and Bokuto are over, and won’t they make a fuss? But they never have before, they know how much he needs them just to act as if it’s normal. It’s not normal, but if they all pretend then Kenma can forget that there’s anything strange at all, he can enjoy the way that the silk feels against his legs and the way that he loves the feeling of wearing his hair done-up and pretty-looking. Keiji says he has nice hair. It’s definitely not as lovely as his sister’s.

And they don’t make a fuss, of course, but they do grin, and Kuroo calls him cute, which Kenma isn’t sure how to feel about.

And at the end of the day it’s easier said than done to be yourself when nobody wants you to be somebody who’s not them. At the end of the day, you cannot be yourself when the world won’t let you discover who you are in the mess of their made-up rules about what’s allowed to make you happy.

And Kenma thinks, why can’t he be happy loving them? Why can’t he be happy loving all three of them? And why can’t the silk of the floral skirt make him happy? Because if that was who he was, and he was, then surely he should be able to be happy with those things. It’s easier said than done, but Kenma tries to do it anyway.

So maybe college isn’t for Bokuto, but he’s happier now where he is and with them. And maybe the whole _boy_ thing isn’t for Kenma, but he’s happier how he is and now how society wants him. And maybe Kuroo’s going to graduate soon and they’ll move in together, and maybe they’ll have to deal with Kenma and Akaashi’s homophobic next door neighbor, but they would be happy together and Akaashi found it funny, so it was really alright in the end.

And it’s fine, wearing that floral print skirt.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you thought in the comments and feel free to send further prompts or requests to Aobajosighs on Tumblr. Thank you~!


End file.
